I’ve been in recovery for over 10 years, and one of the biggest parts of my story is being a parent. I have three kids, and let me be honest—parenting is hard. It’s beautiful and full of love, but it can also be exhausting and overwhelming. One thing I’ve learned along the way is that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of my kids. When I make my recovery and my well-being a priority, I’m able to show up for them with more patience, presence, and love. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being real, and doing the best we can one day at a time. I want to share my experience because I know how much it helps to hear from others who are walking a similar path. You’re not alone in the challenges, and you’re not alone in the victories either.

I had my son at age 23, divorced my son's narcissistic father at 26, and successfully raised an entire good man to independent adulthood as a single mom with no family support network. If you struggle with parenting in general or single parenting specifically, allow me to support you on your journey.

Hello, I’m a 57-year-old who has faced many challenges over the years, including growing up with an abusive parent, losing a parent at a young age, enduring a 15-year marriage to an abusive spouse, navigating infertility and IVF, raising twins, caring for and losing a spouse to terminal illness, and the loss of a 24-year-old child to health issues. I have also faced my own health challenges and become disabled. These experiences, combined with my lifelong work supporting abused and neglected children, women, sex trafficking survivors, foster youth, and grieving parents, have given me a deep understanding of grief, crisis, and resilience. I am here to help you find strength, know you are never alone, and discover ways to survive and thrive even through life’s most difficult moments.

I’ve seen how hard it is to walk away from someone you once loved, even when you know the relationship isn’t healthy. One of the most impactful moments in my life was helping a close friend recognize that she was in a toxic relationship. She kept holding on to the rare good moments, second-guessing herself, and rationalizing her partner’s disrespectful behavior. I didn’t push—I just listened, gently asked questions, and helped her see how those patterns were affecting her self-worth. We talked through what healthy love really looks like, and I encouraged her to keep track of what she was experiencing so she could see it more clearly. Over time, she found the clarity and courage to leave. That experience taught me how deeply we crave connection—even when it hurts—and how valuable it is to have someone by your side while you figure things out.

A year and a half ago, everything in my life flipped upside down. I had made the decision to step away from a high-level executive role because the stress was taking a toll, and I wanted to prioritize my marriage. But right after we returned from vacation, while packing up for a new move just days before Christmas, my husband told me he wanted a divorce. I was completely blindsided and heartbroken. Therapy didn’t quite hit the mark for me, and I struggled to find support groups that truly resonated. So, I made my own path. I leaned on the strength I didn’t even know I had, found clarity through my pain, and gradually rebuilt. I got a new executive role, one that aligns more with who I am now. And despite everything, I’ve even found a sense of peace with my ex we’re friends, and though he’s expressed regret, I know my worth and won’t go back.

Relationships are powerful containers for growth and self-discovery, and I’ve spent my life studying them. After a marriage ended due to my partner’s infidelity, I embarked on a path of self-discovery, healing, and reflection. Now as a massage therapist, my clients often share deeply about their personal relationships, and I realized how much I loved simply listening and holding space for them. This inspired me to create a unique style of couples sessions focused on connection, presence, and understanding each other. Over time, I began offering listening hours, supporting people in processing their feelings, exploring their perspectives, and reflecting on what they truly want in their relationships. My current partner and I practice an intentional form of non-monogamy that prioritizes both of our individual needs and growth. We honor monogamous values as well as polyamorous perspectives, learning to navigate jealousy, quality time, and communication with curiosity and respect.

I’ve experienced love in many forms—young love that faded too soon, a marriage that taught me the cost of betrayal, and a relationship that left me with scars I couldn’t see at first. For a long time, I equated vulnerability with weakness. I stayed quiet about my pain, afraid no one would want all of me—especially the parts that weren’t perfect anymore. But healing taught me that being open isn’t a weakness—it’s courage. I overcame a lot through self-reflection, prayer, therapy, and learning to forgive—not just others, but myself. It took time, tears, and truth to understand that my worth isn’t defined by what I’ve been through. I have learned to love and be loved without fear. My story isn’t about what I lost; it’s about rediscovering hope, embracing honesty, and finding peace in being seen exactly as I am. I hope to help others find the same peace, healing, and confidence within themselves.

I was engaged to my ex for over five years when I came to the understanding he was gay. While I knew he had experienced same-sex attraction in the past and identified as pansexual, in reality was he was struggling with internalized homophobia and chose to remain in a relationship with me as a cover for his friends and family. I discovered his true identity through a series of changes in our relationship and the discovery of gay dating apps on his phone. When I chose to step away with a full understanding of what happened, I had many difficult feelings to navigate. The switch of his personality from loving partner to vindictive and cold stranger, questioning my self worth as a woman, loss of the life we'd built together, and fear for my physical health. I felt embarrassed and humiliated reemerging to my close circle as a newly single woman after a very public relationship. I was angry, but mostly, I was sad. It took time, but I used the opportunity to reinvent myself and start anew.

When I first became a mom, I often felt like I was failing my kids. I was constantly frustrated with myself and overwhelmed by the chaos around me. A lot of that frustration came from old wounds I carried from my own childhood — patterns of behavior and emotional pain that I didn't even realize were still affecting me. Over the past several years, I’ve been on a deep healing journey. I have worked through a lot of depression and anxiety, and started to truly unlearn the patterns I grew up with. I also navigated struggles with my own sexual addiction, which impacted my marriage and left my husband feeling used and disconnected. Through all of this, I have learned how to listen to my kids with empathy, support them through their struggles, and parent from a place of understanding rather than reaction. I know how hard it can feel when you're trying to heal yourself and show up differently for your family at the same time. I’d love to walk alongside you as you navigate the hard, beautiful work of healing while parenting.

For many years I felt something was missing in my life. Being polyamorous intrigued me, but I didn’t know how to explore it with my longtime partner. Over time I discovered ways to embrace polyamory with honesty, respect, and deep care for everyone involved. Strong communication and trust have been the foundation of this journey. I continue to grow, learning how to love more fully through healthy assertiveness and genuine listening. Each experience has taught me that love expands when nurtured with intention and openness. Today my life feels fuller and more beautiful with three. We’ve built an incredible life together over the past several years, one filled with growth, laughter, and tenderness. While it isn’t always easy to balance three hearts, I couldn’t imagine sharing love and kindness any other way. Let’s talk about polyamory, dating, and relationships if you’re curious or exploring your own path.

Me and my wife have been in a relationship for my entire experience of losing my mobility. She has witnessed my decline from fully independent to being now fully dependent on her and my family. Throughout our relationship we have dealt with many different hardships. From infidelity, raising Children, losing a child, arguing about care, and family drama but still find ways to come back together and figure this journey out. Now we are in a place where it has become positive and healthy.

I stayed longer than I should have in an abusive relationship because my sense of stability was completely tied to him - at first. I had four children, but none of them his, thankfully! I didn't have family support. I kept telling myself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as I thought, and if we just had one more good day, maybe it would stick. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t love. I knew better! I'd watched my mom endure a 15-years-long abusive marriage; I wasn't her... The turning point came when I asked myself who I loved more—him, or my kids. I wanted better for them. I didn’t want them growing up thinking abuse was normal. So I left. I moved us to a completely new city where I didn’t know anyone. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But little by little, I rebuilt. I got honest about my pain. I know the violence of that last night left an indelible mark on my children's psyche, so I leaned on therapy, my faith, and the fire I still had inside. Now, I help others who are stuck in that same fear—because I know firsthand that starting over is scary, but staying in harm’s way is scarier.

Loving someone who struggles with mental illness can feel like living on shifting ground. You may feel isolated, guilty, or uncertain about what’s yours to carry — and what isn’t. Maybe you’ve spent years learning how to hold both compassion and boundaries, or maybe you’re still trying to figure out where to start. This is a space for you — not to fix your partner, but to reconnect with your own sense of self, safety, and balance within the relationship. Together, we’ll unpack the emotional load that comes from constant caretaking, the confusion of mixed signals, and the grief that can come from loving someone who is sometimes unreachable.

I have operated in several different relationship frameworks, from monogamous marriage to solo polyamorous. From being married for ten years, to opening up the marriage for two years, to dating and having two girlfriends at once, to casually dating as a single person, I have made mistakes and learned a lot! I do not think one framework is better than another; rather, it depends on your values and goals for the relationship, as there are pros and cons within each framework. Honesty is the best policy, and communicating with clarity empowers everyone to enthusiastically consent (or not) to what is being offered... and what is not.

I was married when my husband told me he should have been a woman. That revelation cracked open everything I thought I knew—about my marriage, my sexuality, and my worth as a woman. I questioned my desirability, my femininity, and whether my needs even mattered. I attempted to go along with this change for about a year but divorce was the end result. I walked through a storm of emotions that most people never talk about. It's affected me in surprising and lasting ways. I'm very liberal and have many trans and queer friends but having my partner want that within our relationship was really something I never thought i'd have to navigate. More then anything tho, i yearned to find someone who had gone through what i was going thru. It was incredibly isolating.

Ever since I was a child, my dream was to be a stay-at-home mom. When I finally had kids, I loved them deeply, but I quickly realized parenting was much tougher than I had imagined. I carried high expectations into motherhood, shaped by a culture where achievements were praised and kids were often compared to others. I expected a lot from my children and, without meaning to, placed a heavy burden on them. This led to frustration, tension, and a lot of anger that I didn’t know how to manage at first. Over time, through self-reflection and a real desire to change, I learned to recognize the harm my anger was causing and worked hard to rebuild trust and connection with my kids. Our relationships are so much stronger now, and I am grateful every day for the second chance I created by showing up differently. I’d love to walk alongside anyone else who wants to repair and strengthen their bond with their children.

Ever since I was a child, my dream was to be a stay-at-home mom. When I finally had kids, I loved them deeply, but I quickly realized parenting was much tougher than I had imagined. I carried high expectations into motherhood, shaped by a culture where achievements were praised and kids were often compared to others. I expected a lot from my children and, without meaning to, placed a heavy burden on them. This led to frustration, tension, and a lot of anger that I didn’t know how to manage at first. Over time, through self-reflection and a real desire to change, I learned to recognize the harm my anger was causing and worked hard to rebuild trust and connection with my kids. Our relationships are so much stronger now, and I am grateful every day for the second chance I created by showing up differently. I’d love to walk alongside anyone else who wants to repair and strengthen their bond with their children.